Photograph
by Gilraen Ar-Feiniel
Summary: GenmaxHayate. Oneshot. Genma tries to persuade Hayate that spending all of his time staring at a photograph is not always the best way forward.


This is my first attempt at anything angsty-ish, so I'm not entirely sure what I'm about here. Cheers to Debbie for reading this through.

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. Otherwise Hayate would still be here.

**Photograph**

"There are more things to do on a computer than stare at a photograph, you know." Genma strolled into the small study to stand behind Hayate's chair.

"I know," the second man replied. "But I just wanted to look. To remember."

"Why?" Genma already knew the answer; however he asked the question anyway. He needed Hayate to say it, knowing that he wouldn't be able to bear hearing it from anyone's lips other than his.

"Because," Hayate paused, putting the words together before he said them. He sighed, but did not take his eyes from the bright screen. "You know what the medics said, Genma. You were there. I want to look because I want to spend at least some of the time I have left remembering."

"This isn't like you, Hayate," Genma said softly, placing his hands on the younger man's shoulders. "And besides, there's still plenty of time left. You heard what the medic said. A few years, easily." The false enthusiasm was obvious, even to him.

"You're exaggerating, and you know it," the dark haired man replied as gently as Genma himself had spoken. He reached up and took one of Genma's hands, twisting in his seat to look up at the honey-haired man who had promised to stay with him, no matter how hard things got. For his part, Genma looked down into Hayate's tired eyes and found a spark of hope in there. Hope that Genma would stay by his side. The senbon-chewing ninja gave his lover's shoulder a squeeze. An unspoken answer to an unasked question. Hayate smiled up at him, before his eyes widened with pain and he turned back, doubled over, in a series of pained, hacking coughs. Genma looked on sadly, his heart breaking with the knowledge that nothing he could do would ever stop those coughs.

After what felt like an eternity to both of them, the coughs subsided. Hayate looked down at the spots of blood that had landed on his hand and glistened with the contrast of the dark crimson of his blood and the ashen whiteness of his skin. Wordlessly, he wiped the blood from his hand with the tissue that had been given to him by a silent Genma. He then raised his eyes again to the computer screen with the photograph as its desktop. Genma also looked, unable to think of anything to say.

The photograph was of a group of Konoha ninja. Their friends. Yuuhi Kurenai and Sarutobi Asuma stood next to each other, grinning. Genma smiled too as he spotted Asuma's perpetual cigarette, and smiled even wider when he realised that Asuma had his arm around Kurenai's waist. Standing next to them were Raido and Anko. Anko didn't appear to be concentrating on the photo, and was busily barging past a disgruntled Raido to get over to Kurenai. Next to them, laughing and rubbing the bridge of his scarred nose as he watched Anko's antics was the Chuunin teacher from the Academy, Umino Iruka. Just behind him was the distinctive figure of Hatake Kakashi, noticeable with his mass of silver-grey hair and mask, with his hitai-ate pulled right down over his Sharingan. He was reading a book from his Itcha Itcha series. On the opposite side of Asuma and Kurenai, standing behind Hayate and Genma themselves, was the lanky frame of Maito Gai. He was shouting something at Kakashi, who was managing to do a splendid job of utterly ignoring him. This, Genma thought, was probably the reason why the man with the weird eyebrows was looking so worked up. Finally, Genma had to drag his eyes over to themselves. He had draped his arms around Hayate's neck, and although he still looked pale and tired, Hayate was laughing. Genma was grinning too. It had only been a couple of days since he had worked up the courage to ask Hayate out at the time of the photograph, and he was still as high as a kite. Even the senbon clenched in his teeth stuck out at a jaunty angle. The whole photograph reflected life and vibrance. Genma couldn't remember the reason why this photograph was taken, although judging by the behaviour of everyone in it they were all more than a little drunk. It showed themselves and their friends as they truly were, relaxed and happy. At least he could see why Hayate liked it so much.

His lover coughed slightly, snapping Genma out of his private reverie. He looked down with concern, but it didn't look as though it would turn into a full-blown coughing fit this time. Hayate's eyes had already returned to the screen. The honey-haired ninja frowned, chewing his senbon thoughtfully. Although he agreed that Hayate did need time to sit by himself and think, he also needed to be with people. Now was one such time. Reaching out, he took hold of the mouse. A few clicks and several protests from Hayate later, the desktop picture became the rather more worrying sight of Kakashi henge'd into an attractive, grey-haired, bikini-clad young woman, still complete with mask. Hayate stopped protesting for long enough to raise an eyebrow.

"Why exactly do you have _that_?"

"Blackmail," Genma replied with a wicked grin.

"Very nice. Now put the photograph back."

"No. Let's leave it changed for a couple of days. Please? Besides, you'll get the chance to look at it again."

"All right then." Hayate said reluctantly. He allowed Genma to pull him to his feet and faced his honey-haired lover. Genma smiled and pressed a kiss against Hayate's lips.

"Come on," he said gently. "The others are waiting for us in the bar." Hayate nodded and allowed himself to be led out of the room, without looking back.

_Three days later, Genma turns the computer on. He ignores the picture of Kakashi and plays with the settings. The screen goes dark for a second before the photograph appears. Genma stares at it, remembering. His dark eyes are rimmed with red, and he stares at himself through a haze of unshed tears. He can't bring himself to look at the laughing man that the photograph version of himself is leaning on, not fully. That would mean accepting the impossible. No, not the impossible, just the unacceptable. That the photograph is now no longer true. That the hope has died, along with the man he loves. Genma's shoulders shake and silent tears course down his face as he reaches out to touch the his last connection with the photograph. With Hayate._


End file.
